Hot
by JPsmiles
Summary: Face is hot  and I'm not talking about his looks this time  A short story.


'Damn, it's hot,' Face thought. 'No…hot isn't a strong enough word.'

He continued climbing on his belly through the mud. "Sweltering. That's more like it," he grumbled.

A few minutes later he was wading through waist high water. It was so hot that he was sure he was going to roast inside of the murky fluid. 'Poached Peck…lovely.'

Face took off running once he hit solid ground. The last thing he needed to do at this point was piss Hannibal off even more by clocking in slow on this time through the course.

This time, being the third time, at least he was more familiar with the terrain. But the difference between running with fresh legs at 8am when the sun had yet to reach its full potential and running with completely fatigued muscles at 10am with the sun making its way to the top was staggering.

Face knew Hannibal was punishing him showing up almost two hours late after falling for another blonde. But the colonel didn't know the details…he hadn't bothered to ask. And even if he had, Face wasn't quite sure what he would have told him.

Face was starting to slow down. He willed his legs to pick it up, but they just wouldn't listen. His run had slowed to a jog. The sweat was stinging his eyes and blurring his vision as he stumbled along the trail. 'Keep moving…just keep moving. You can melt later.'

He didn't regret what happened early this morning and would have done the same thing all over again without hesitation. The way those blue eyes had looked up at him, he really had no other choice.

What he did regret was not eating or drinking anything since dinner the night before. He was starving upon waking up and had placed a bagel and bottle of orange juice on the passenger seat of his car for the drive to the training site. But his soon to be companion, being just as hungry and twice as cute, would take possession of both the seat and his breakfast.

So now Face's tank was empty and he was working on fumes. Add to those fumes the oppressive heat and there was bound to be an explosion…or in this case an implosion.

His jog gradually tapered down to a walk, and a slow one at that. He forced one foot in front of the other until on one of the steps his legs buckled and he fell to his knees. 'So hot…can't breathe…need a rest…just a short one,' he thought. He crawled over to a tree and rested his back against it; even the bark felt hot through the thin fabric of his sweat soaked t-shirt.

It took one attempt at getting up a few minutes later to realize that he wasn't going anywhere…at least not of his own accord. His head swam and he felt nauseous and weak. His last thoughts before keeling over onto his side were of the blonde.

They sat in the comfort of the air conditioned van waiting for Face. Every so often Hannibal would glance down at his watch and mutter under his breath.

"Colonel, don't you think we should go look for Face?" Murdock asked from the back.

"Yeah, man," B.A. agreed, much to his own chagrin. "Even Faceman ain't this slow…and it getting' real hot out there."

Hannibal sighed loudly; he knew they were right. It was eleven thirty-five now, meaning that Face had been out there for over three hours. The course should have taken no more than an hour going at even a moderate pace, and Face was capable of much more than that. For all of his posturing and his preppy appearance, he remained one of the most fit people Hannibal had ever met.

The second time Face had returned he was showing some signs of fatigue, but he didn't even flinch when Hannibal sent him out again. That was well over an hour ago and now the colonel was getting worried…though he refused to admit it. "Fine…if it'll make you two feel better."

Murdock and B.A. shared a knowing grin before B.A. pulled out onto the dirt road. He mindlessly flicked on the radio as he often did out of habit. And that's when they heard it:

'In breaking news, during the wee early hours of this morning, a good Samaritan found and returned little Tommy Brooks back to his terrified parents. The seven year old blonde boy went missing the day before yesterday. Here is what Tommy had to say to reporters about this unknown hero just a short while ago: 'he had a real neat car…a Corvette. I told him that I ran away from home and he told me that I should be happy to have a mommy and daddy 'cause he never did. I was real hungry and he gave me his breakfast too…"

"Damn," Hannibal said turning down the radio…it had to be Face…now he was ready to admit that he was worried. While Face wasn't diabetic, they all know that if he didn't eat regularly his blood sugar dropped and he went into a hypoglycemic state rather quickly. He was out in this awful heat and it appeared as if he hadn't eaten anything. "Step on it B.A. Murdock, get the med kit ready."

It was a tense fifteen minutes before they located Face lying on his side, unconscious. They ran over to the still form.

"Face," Hannibal shook him lightly. "Face, can you hear me?"

Face's eyes fluttered for a moment and he murmured, "Hot…so hot. Don't…feel…good."

"I'm going to help you out with that, buddy," Murdock said. "Got our ol' pal glucagon here for you. Just a little prick and you'll feel much better."

Face woke up next in the van. Hannibal was holding a cold compress to his forehead. "I'm sorry, kid. Why didn't you tell me about the boy?"

"I…uh…I don't know. When I saw him…he looked so lost…so scared. I know that look…I know that feeling." He thought of Tommy's smile as he ran into his parent's arms…it was something he often dreamt of for himself as a child. "I wanted to make it go away for him."

"Brought back some memories, huh?"

"Yeah." His voice was hoarse and raspy. "You can say that."

"You did good. I'm proud of ya, kid."

Face smiled and shut his eyes. He still felt warm…but this time it was coming from the inside out.

The End


End file.
